


Rolling

by Makiko (Sab)



Category: Farscape
Genre: (Uploaded by Punk), Episode: s03e11 Incubator, Gen, Scorpius Before He Was Scorpius, written as makiko
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-01
Updated: 2002-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-29 12:19:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/686883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sab/pseuds/Makiko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Just a man on a mission, a solitary figure at the mercy of your hospitality." Rolling along. (Uploaded by Punk, from Leviathan.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rolling

**Author's Note:**

> Because I love Pene, and because it's my birthday. This is un-beta'd, and also a one-off while I wait for everyone to see the final 4 eps before I post my other thing.

The zom fountains he recognized, the design clearly copied, though whether Scarran or Sebacean he wasn't sure. It was possible he remembered them from his infancy, running water down the raked strip of hydroplast to irrigate the garden. Womb sounds. Or he remembered them from Tauza's lab, slick with chemical sterilizers. But they made that whoosh, that soft-water whoosh and he remembered, and they were the same here. He bent over the fountain and washed his face and it stung. 

Everything else was strange on this world, even the people, though translator microbes and hand gestures got Ndube a room on the back of a flatbed and a bite to eat. On Hosh, they explained, everything was mobile, the structures on wheels ran across roads that were themselves on rails. It hadn't always been like this, just the last ten generations or so when the radiation from the sun grew so toxic that half the population died or evacuated, and the remaining cities had to roll a slow beat matching the planet's spin, always on the dark side, always a step ahead of the sun. Perpetual escape, perpetual safety, timed to perfection. He liked that. Three days and already he thought of staying here, in the dark, the whoosh of the zom fountain and the slow clack of the wheels and tracks beneath the truck. On the other hand, of course, there was revenge. 

Ndube left his cabin and crossed the sliding sidewalk under trees bolted to spongy totem poles and pink streetlamps barely cutting the dark. Down the street, at the pub, the Hosh still looked at him strangely, but they were friendly almost to a fault and he pitied them for the day the Scarrans would come and rape and pillage this world as they'd done so many others. 

"Just water," Ndube said. "Very cold." 

The bartender blinked his enormous purple eye and flipped on the tap. "See you in here a lot," the Hosh said. Ndube nodded. "Where you from, friend?" 

"Nowhere in particular," Ndube said. "Just a man on a mission, a solitary figure at the mercy of your hospitality." 

"That'll be ten dumars," the bartender said, and Ndube knocked back the glass of water and set it up on the bar for a refill. He felt the cool trickle through his chest, and exhaled. 

"Hey, stranger," Ndube recognized the voice of the flatbed driver and turned around. "PK cruiser just entered the system, tax collectors and some military folk, I think. They always show up this time of month to kick us around a little and collect their dues. Anyway, you wanted to know." 

"Yes," Ndube said, and stood up. "Thank you." 

He was brilliant, and charming the Sebaceans would be easy. No one understood the Scarran threat better than he did, and with the force of the Peacekeepers in his control, he would finally have retribution. It would be quick and brutal, easy. Tauza would pay. 

"You leaving, then?" The bartender waved a scaly paw. 

"My destiny awaits," Ndube said. 

"Well, roll along, then," the Hosh said. "What's your name, anyway?" 

Ndube grinned. He'd been waiting for that. "Scorpius," he said, and he liked the taste of his new name on his tongue. And then he left, because he had work to do.


End file.
